Pouring
by ciononeme
Summary: [rypay] Updated Oct01. She thinks she loves these boots. [RyanSharpayUST]
1. Pouring

Title: Pouring

Author: ciononeme

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Ryan/Sharpay (UST, unrequited incest)

Summary: "_...a __dark__-eyed glance that would look just like desire._"

xxxx

Sharpay was sleeping sideways in the chair, one long leg resting on the arm, the other drawn up to her chest. Her favorite -- and secret -- comfort blanket was drawn over her haphazardly and Ryan had trouble suppressing a grin.

If the dorks at school only knew that his sister had a 'blankie' -- she'd never live it down.

But he wasn't about to tell on her. Instead, he drew the square of pink cotton up closer around her shoulders, tucking it in under her arms. She murmured something and smiled in her sleep, turning her cheek against the blanket.

The house was quiet. Mother was at yoga -- or was it flower arranging today? Ryan could never remember. Dad was away on business and the servants ... well, they were doing whatever servants did. Servant'y things.

It was raining outside, hard sheets of water sluicing against the bay windows of the mansion's front room. Ryan settled into a sofa that sat next to Sharpay's chair and watched the rain fall -- an easy, relaxed sort of boredom settling in.

He didn't mind the downtime. If truth be told his sister's demanding personal schedule exhausted him sometimes, not that he'd ever tell her. It was his ... pleasure ... to follow her. Besides, how hard was it being her shadow?

It had been his lot since the day they were conceived, wasn't it?

Chuckling ruefully at the realization, he glanced over at her again, a warm affection welling. Her long blond hair had fallen over one cheek and she was curled up so tightly under the blanket, she reminded him of a kitten, happily enjoying its snuggly comforts.

Ryan secretly liked cats better than dogs. He'd always wanted one but deferred to Sharpay's love of toy pooches. Cats were independent, had discriminating taste in companions and groomed themselves within an inch of their nine lives -- not unlike Sharpay.

Cats had wild tempers when provoked. Their soft fur bristled, their sheathed claws coming out with lightning speed. They made enemies for life, but once their love was given, it lasted forever.

Maybe that's why Ryan liked them. For the same reason he loved Sharpay as passionately as he did. Her love was a rare gift, one to treasure.

Eventually, Sharpay stirred, opening one sleepy eye. "Is it still raining?"

"Yep." Ryan leaned his head back against the sofa and smiled at her.

She uncurled and rose from the chair, stretching out with catlike grace before flopping down next to Ryan, laying her head in his lap. "I hate the rain," she grumbled, before closing her eyes and drifting off to sleep again.

"It's not that bad," he whispered, stroking her long hair away from her forehead. He closed his eyes and let Sharpay's scent surround him. She smelled like the peaches and cream soap she used and the chocolate brownie she'd snuck for lunch when she thought no one was looking.

His fingers wound unconsciously through her hair, twirling the ends over and around his hand. So soft and a hot feeling, something not exactly fraternal edged through his gut as Ryan tried to shake it off.

Your hormones just don't know the difference, he tried to convince himself. Again.

A lie, but one Ryan preferred to live with. It was better than the alternative, anyway. He wasn't going to throw away her love ... her trust ... for anything as crude as desire. She deserved better than that.

Her hair slipped over his knuckles in silky waves, a feeling so sensual it made his stomach twist, so he quickly moved his fingers up to her scalp, massaging it nervously. Ryan swallowed hard, especially when Sharpay began to making pleased little noises -- purring almost -- her cheek rubbing against his thigh.

Trembling, Ryan hurriedly pulled his hand away from her, as if touching her burned him. _She deserves more...better...and nothing is good enough for Sharpay_.

She stopped moving, thank God and Ryan found himself breathless, as he'd forgotten to breathe. His mouth was cotton dry and he was staring at the ceiling hardly noticing when she woke up, reaching up to touch his neck, laughing when he jumped.

"You're as nervous as a cat," she giggled, sitting up and squirming into the crook of Ryan's arm.

"I thought you were asleep." He focused on the windows, where the rain continued to fall. "So what do you want to do today?"

She shrugged lazily. "I dunno." A pause. "This is good."

This. Whatever _this_ was, he thought, sighing inwardly. "We could rehearse," he offered half-heartedly. "There's this new move I wanted to try out."

"Meh," she responded, leaning her head on his shoulder, cuddling closer until they were entwined so tightly, they looked conjoined. "I hate when it rains like this. I don't feel like doing anything ... except eat." She blinked suddenly, as if aware of what she just said. "You know, like, salads and stuff."

Ryan laughed aloud. "Sprinkled with brownies."

"I don't eat brownies," Sharpay growled, pinching him. "Right?"

"Oh, never," he said, shaking his head solemnly. "I meant rice cakes."

"Shut up," she shot back but not without affection. She wrinkled her nose at the still-falling rain. "Maybe we can watch a movie. But we'd have to get up for that, wouldn't we?"

"Kinda." Ryan glanced around the living area, the one room in the house that his mother had declared a 'TV-free' zone ever since he could remember. They actually had a theater room, one he and Sharpay used for parties and to impress the dorks at their school, but most of the time they watched movies in the bedroom, either his or hers, lying side by side on the bed, popcorn bowl sitting between them.

Sometimes their hands would touch as they blindly reached inside of it and those were yet more times Ryan didn't want to think too closely about. About how easy it would be to roll over and shove the bowl away and have her long body squirming underneath his, to kiss and worship, to see her look of surprise melt into something hotter ... a dark-eyed glance that would look just like desire.

Ryan bit his lower lip hard, trying to concentrate on the pain of that instead. "I don't think I want to watch a movie," he rasped. "Okay?"

"Okay," she replied, not noticing his distress. Looking sleepy yet again, she pulled the blanket up more closely around her, then looked in askance at Ryan. "You're shivering. Are you cold?"

"Yeah," he lied, the flush on his skin anything but chilled.

"Aw, poor baby," she murmured, flipping half the blanket over his chest. "Is that better?"

"Much."

"Good," she said with satisfaction, closing her eyes and falling asleep with enviable ease.

Ryan was still, but couldn't sleep. His mind was like the rain, so many thoughts slipping through the synapses so fast they melted into one another until they were nothing but a single blur.

_I love you, Sharpay_, they sang and he listened sadly, as Sharpay's light breathing played beneath them, in perfect harmony.

It was then he decided he hated rainy days too.

xxxx

end

Reviews are appreciated, thanks!


	2. Falling

  
Title: Falling  
Author: by ciononeme  
Fandom: High School Musical  
Pairing: Ryan/Sharpay UST  
Rating: PG-13  
Length 1,153 words  
Summary: It's raining again. Part of the "Pouring" universe.

xxxx

It's raining again but no longer a comforting end of summer storm watched from the windows of the mansion, curled around each other like innocent creatures seeking warmth. 

They're in the city now and it's a late fall downpour, very cold and diamond-hard against the skin. Their ride is late and Sharpay didn't dress warmly enough, again. Ryan watches as she stands under the closed club's awning, shivering, her arms wrapped in a tight 'x' across her chest.

He pulls off his sweater and hands to her. Sharpay ducks into it without protest, damp tendrils of hair clinging to her cheeks. She sniffles and laughs sadly as a series of headlights pass them, their metal hoods and windows gleaming through the sky's wash. 

Her face is pale, with two bright spots of red on her cheeks, a sign of a little too much to drink. She smells like cranberry juice, candle smoke and damp sweater and Ryan tries to ignore the tiny dot of smeared lipstick on her chin, a reminder of some small indiscretion in a dark corner with a stranger, one that he watched only for a moment before willing himself to turn away. 

The boy was gone a few minutes later, Sharpay abandoning him to dance with Ryan on the club's pin-narrow floor. She strutted like a queen, owning the space completely and Ryan merely caught her as she spun, happy to let her blur into him. She glittered like gold dust in sunlight, her short skirt flaring and she kissed him at the end of the last dance, coyly, a sly touch of her lips to his, laughing at the crowd's 'ohhhh'.

They thought they were lovers. Strangers always make that mistake, if he can really call it a mistake.

The bright night ended then, bringing the cold rain and dawn. Someone is laughing in the alleyway behind them, drunk, and Ryan leans against the awning's supports, listening. The cars keep whooshing by, slicing over the wet streets until Sharpay makes an impatient noise, tugging on his arm.

She leads them into the rain, urging him to run and he follows without question. They don't have to go far to discover the welcome smell of hot coffee. The diner door is locked, but Sharpay knocks on the glass and tilts her head sadly until the owner pulls it open and lets them in.

"The grill isn't hot yet," he warns, but hands them a menu anyway.

Sharpay smiles and shake her head. "Coffee is the only food I need."

The owner snorts and two steaming cups are slid onto the table. Sharpay wraps her hands around the hot mug, the warmth visibly settling over her. Her face is flushed and beautiful and she quirks a crooked smile at Ryan.

The sight makes his throat tighten. He takes a too hasty sip of coffee, boiling as it is and winces when it burns his tongue. "Think we'll ever get home?"

She shrugs. "I don't care." Her long hair is curling uncontrollably in the damp air and she yanks it into a loose ponytail, twisting it around itself until it stays put. One of her feet playfully nudges at Ryan's leg. "We were hot in there tonight, weren't we?"

Looking away, he laughs. He can still feel the touch of her lips against his. "Yeah. We were."

Her broad smile shows perfectly white teeth and her huge silver hoop earrings, so right for the club look delightfully gaudy and out of place in the dingy diner. She keeps blowing and sipping at the black coffee and Ryan has the urge to run his finger down her cheek, where a thin sheen of rainwater still shines. 

The day grows lighter outside, but the rain hasn't stopped, only slowed into a dull, steady beat. The brass bell hanging on the diner door jangles and clinks as other customers enter, the city's morning rush beginning.

Sharpay orders scrambled eggs, four pieces of toast and two plates. It arrives a minute later and she makes little towers of eggs and toast that she tries to get her lips around before they fall apart, laughing as they crumble onto the worn table. 

Ryan's not hungry -- not for food -- but he takes a bite of toast anyway. One of Sharpay's feet keeps tapping out an imaginary beat under the table next to his; it seems to match the rhythm of the rain. 

He hums along and in the door walks a tired looking man carrying a bucket of long stem roses, individually wrapped. Catches Ryan's eye and grins like a businessman. "Pretty flower for your beautiful girl? Only five dollars"

Ryan glances at Sharpay who smirks at him around a mouthful of breakfast. "Sure," he says, deftly tossing over the money. All the roses are red, except for a lone pink bloom and this is the one Ryan plucks to hand over to Sharpay. 

Squeaking with delight, she bounces a little on her seat, sniffing delicately at the slightly droopy petals. "Thank you ... sweetheart," she purrs, pursing her lips at him. 

"You're welcome ... darling," he shoots back and they laugh loudly enough to make the waitress turn around and stare at them over her station at the counter. They ignore her and finish their food, drinking enough coffee to make the world around them seem like it's buzzing with a hyperactive life all its own. 

"When we get home, I want to do the foxtrot," she says sometime later, before motioning for the check.

"When we get home, I want to sleep," Ryan counters, feeling the gray daylight sitting heavily on his eyelids. 

She taps his cheek with the rose. "We can sleep when we're dead." Her cell phone beeps twice -- its their chauffeur's signal that he's waiting for them. She throws a twenty on the table -- twice the amount of the check -- and threads her arm through Ryan's, holding her rose like a trophy. 

People grin indulgently at them, thinking they know the story, the one about a nice boy and pretty girl and their late night in the big city. Ryan wishes he could tell them the real deal, but he's not sure if he knows it, except for the part where the color would drain away from the listener's face, once they saw deeply enough into his heart, their eyes burnt by the forbidden heat churning there.

Maybe he can sleep on the way home, he thinks, watching their huge limo swing around to get them, sending up waves of water onto the sidewalks. His sister wants to foxtrot, he won't deny her, feeling her lean her head tiredly on his shoulder, their arms still entwined.

Besides, it's still raining.

xxxx

Thanks for reading. Reviews are welcome. 


	3. This Dance

Title: "That ... This Dance"  
Author: by ciononeme  
Fandom: High School Musical  
Pairing: Ryan/Sharpay UST  
Rating: PG-13  
Length 876 words

Summary: She hates ... loves ... those boots. Part of the "Pouring" universe.

0o0o0o

Sharpay is six and hates her rain boots.

Actually, she's six, two months and twenty-three days but it's not like she's counting and these _hideous_ rubber boots she's forced to wear every time it rains are so unbelievably _ugly_ she wonders how she'll survive the next cloudy day.

Ryan, on the other hand, has no such prejudices.

He stomps happily though every puddle not caring he has neon yellow clod stompers attached to his feet.

Sharpay can't help but wonder if they're _really_ related. Maybe the circus _did_ drop him off at the house one dark night as her best friend Ashley said. Not that she'd ever mention that to him again after that time he burst into tears like a big baby and told Mommy _and_ Daddy on her and they took away her very, very, very favorite Barbie for a whole _hour_ afterwards ...

Still, she can't help but wonder.

He also wears his hood even when Mommy's not looking and he tilts his face up to let the dirty rain fall into his mouth which is too gross for words. Only bathtub water is more disgusting, she thinks, at least until Ryan pulls her into a puddle with him.

Ew, a gross puddle with her brother who has no taste at all and she's _so_ going to tell. "Ryan!"

She glares at him, hard.

He laughs at her, hard.

They are still holding hands and the rain is beating all around them like a drum hitting the sidewalk in nature's own rhythm.

Splish, splash, splick, splock. Smack, crick, crack, smick.

Click, clack, clurk and Sharpay's foot start tapping, the toe of the boot making the rainwater ripple in perfectly round waves. She takes a dainty step, then another, just like the ones she's learned in dance class.

Ryan takes the same class with her and he taps with her before he twirls her effortlessly, helping her spin on boots that suddenly aren't quite as ugly as she thought less than a moment before.

They are truly dancing then, in the pouring rain, and Sharpay can no longer think about what she's wearing, only about what she's doing and how it makes her feel likes she's flying. Flying through the rainstorm with Ryan, without a care in the world.

Laughing, she turns her face up to the rain to taste it and Ryan was right.

It's almost ... almost ... as sweet as candy.

0o0o0o

She's seventeen now, too old to be told what to wear.

The irony of her enjoying putting on a pair of pink rubber boots when it rains isn't lost on Ryan who's lost his own taste for such childlike things long ago.

He smirks and looks away with an expression of mock superiority when she tugs them on. She's squealing with glee when she looks in the mirror at those big rubber-clad feet poking out from the bottom of whatever pants she's wearing that day and he can't stop rolling his eyes but they both know he doesn't mean it.

Because he still dances with her outside in the rain when no one is looking.

Twirls her, spins and dips her twice, the second time with a look so passionate, Sharpay can feel the racing heat run down her spine despite the cool rain tickling her parted lips like a kiss.

Thankfully, the boots ground her, keep her from falling down from the sheer, shivery excitement of it all -- _oh God, he wants her_ -- and she thinks she secretly loves these ugly, wonderful, fantastic shoes most of all, out of the hundreds of pairs she owns.

Later, she walks into East High with wet clothes and a secret smile. The other girls think they have something on her, staring pointedly at her ungainly feet. Sharpay laughs at them in her heart, her eyes on Ryan who walks beside her as always, his damp bangs falling into his eyes, making him look perfect and innocent ... and utterly ... hers.

Her scuffed boots squeak along the school's tiled floors.

Ryan pretends he doesn't know her. She kicks him with one foot under the lunchroom table, then with the other before 'accidentally' spilling her juice on him.

He yells at her for something. She throws his hat out the window.

They make up at dinner, until the tart Cook brought for dessert looks a little too small and they wrestle like animals for the last chocolate strawberry.

He gives it to her with a furious huff and she trails him to the TV room where he's blindly flipping through the channels, annoyed. She sits on the far end of the couch, slowly edging closer until their legs touch and when she leans her head on his shoulder, she smiles at his deep exhale.

He falls asleep a little while later. Sharpay closes her eyes not long after, but not before she says an earnest little prayer.

A little prayer for rain and all the wonderful things that follow.

0o0o0o

Reviews are always welcome, thank you!


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